


Leap of Faith

by Meicdon13



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Back Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Chronological, Religious Guilt, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meicdon13/pseuds/Meicdon13
Summary: Five years after they break up, Hazel and Gat find themselves facing the opportunity to start over and do things better, if not right.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thienaultha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thienaultha/gifts).



> Prompt was, "Hazel/Gat; both yesterday’s sadness and today’s smile remain as the truth; PG13 and up," for yuletide_smut 2016.
> 
> Going with Filbert and Hazel as Protestant, so that means Filbert can adopt Hazel. Beta by the ever-awesome [Whymzycal](http://whymzycal.dreamwidth.org/). Finished 15 December 2016.
> 
> hmu: [twitter](https://twitter.com/MtBlackBear) • [dreamwidth](http://meicdon13.dreamwidth.org/)

Their relationship had been complicated—doomed from the start, probably, all things considered—and Hazel wasn’t sure what he was doing, sitting alone in the middle of the mall's noisy food court and waiting for Gat to arrive for their movie date. Things had changed, but they were hardly _simple_. 

Hazel wondered if five years spent apart, trying to forget each other’s existence, could be so easily pushed aside in an attempt to pick up where they’d left off. Hazel could remember leaving Gat behind, not telling him where he was moving and feeling bitter that Gat hadn’t bothered to ask. For probably the hundredth time that day, he wondered if he was making the right decision. 

***** 

Hazel stood in front of the funeral home for a few moments, ignoring the people shooting him annoyed looks for standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He still hadn’t completely processed the fact that Bishop Filbert was dead, and he still froze at random moments throughout the day, suddenly struck by the knowledge that he was now completely and utterly alone in the world. Filbert Grouse had been the only family Hazel ever had, his biological parents long dead and forgotten in the distant past of his childhood, and God had seen fit to take him away from Hazel. 

Hazel took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, opened them on the exhale. _Father is in a better place now_ , he told himself, thought about eternal life, warm places full of light and love and empty of suffering. The mental image of his father relaxing on a cloud somewhere above him was amusing enough to get a small smile out of him and motivate him to finally start moving. 

The sense of calm he’d managed to attain during his short walk up to the funeral home was immediately shattered when he opened the front door and came face-to-face with his ex-secret boyfriend. 

***** 

“For such a large man, Gat really is quiet, isn’t he,” Bishop Filbert chuckled. 

Hazel froze for a few seconds, his hand squeezing the television remote hard enough for him to worry about accidentally breaking it. “I’ve gotten used to it,” he said, thankful that his voice didn’t waver. “I suppose I talk enough for the both of us.” 

Father looked at Hazel over the rim of his mug. “Well, either way, it’s nice seeing you with friends. Being in the seminary doesn’t mean you can’t have a social life, you know.” 

It was silly to think that father suspected anything, not with how careful they were, not with all the precautions they always took to keep things secret. It was silly, but that didn’t stop Hazel from staying up all night, worrying about what he’d do if father ever found out. They’d never discussed such things but Hazel had always assumed that father espoused the Church’s views. There was a chance that he could be wrong, that father would welcome him with open arms instead of disgust and disappointment, but Hazel was too terrified of being wrong to even chance it. 

Hazel could handle leaving the Church and the seminary behind. He told himself he could leave behind Gat as well. 

***** 

Gat had all his contact information but he never used it unless it was related to arrangements for father’s wake and funeral. Hazel told himself that he should be relieved at Gat’s professionalism instead of being disappointed. And it wasn’t like he gave Gat any sign of wanting to at least become friends again—he barely spoke to him whenever he visited the funeral home and when he did, he spoke as few words as Gat usually did. 

Hazel didn’t say anything about how tired Gat always looked whenever they went over plans. He ignored overheard conversations about how Gat really should use his accumulated vacation time to relax. 

Hazel was so busy not worrying that he almost missed the slight wobble in Gat’s step as he rearranged the pews for the wake. He took a couple of steps in Gat’s direction before he abruptly turned away and headed towards the flower arrangements lined up against one wall. 

“You don’t have to be here.” 

Hazel nearly dropped the vase he was holding. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Gat approaching. “It’s not like I have anything better to do,” Hazel said. That was a lie—he still had to go to the rectory and get father’s things but he didn’t know if he could handle facing people with their condolences and unsubtle questions about whether or not he’s considered coming back. 

Gat simply looked at him, gaze calm and assessing, before he nodded and went to talk with another funeral home worker. 

Hazel wanted to ask him why he bothered with doing grunt work when he was a funeral director. He wanted to ask how Gat had ended up working here in the first place, if he was happy, if he was overworked, if he liked his job. Instead, he went back to organizing the flower arrangements. He had lost the right to worry about Gat years ago. 

*****

“You aren’t being punished,” Gat said quietly as they sat side-by-side on his bed, backs pressed against the wall. Hazel was grateful that Gat wasn’t looking at him. “Bishop Filbert was just … old.” 

_It feels like I am_ , Hazel didn’t say. It felt like punishment for leaving the seminary, for having feelings for another man, for that time when he had been a child and had dared to ask Bishop Filbert in a rare moment of doubt if God existed. 

Hazel didn’t tell Gat any of these things but Gat seemed to understand anyway, moving a bit closer and silently offering his support. Hazel leaned against his shoulder and stared into the darkness of the room, comforted by his steady presence. 

*****

“We should probably take a break from seeing each other so often,” Hazel told Gat. He could barely feel the phone in his hand. He could barely feel his _hand_. 

“Hazel—” 

“I don’t want him to find out.” _Tell me that you’re staying with me._ “It’s for the best.” 

Even for Gat the silence went on for too long, weighed down by unspoken words. “Alright,” Gat said eventually. 

Hazel didn’t say anything after that, standing like an idiot with the dial tone droning on in his ear after Gat ended the call. He was relieved at the lack of drama that accompanied the end of a three-year relationship, angry that Gat hadn’t fought for him, and wracked with guilt at being such a selfish creature. 

*****

“Do you want to get something to eat?” 

Hazel didn’t freeze. He continued wrapping his scarf around his neck before he put on his coat. 

More than five years ago, almost the exact same words. _Do you want to grab something to eat?_ Back then, Hazel hadn’t been hungry, but he had been curious about the possibilities that could follow from dinner. In the present, Hazel was starving, but determined to avoid going down that road again. 

And it was … it was too soon. Father’s funeral was still this weekend—how could he do something like dating— 

As if he could read Hazel’s mind, Gat added, “Thought you could use a friend.” Hazel wasn’t sure if that was what Gat had really intended when he first asked and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out. 

“Maybe next time,” Hazel said, polite but bland smile in place. _Lead us not into temptation_ , he told himself firmly. 

*****

Hazel covered Gat’s mouth with his hand, not tall enough to kiss him to keep him quiet. It was an unnecessary precaution—even while Hazel was jerking him off, Gat was still mostly quiet aside from a few forceful exhales and slightly faster breathing. And they were at Gat’s apartment, far away from anyone who could accidentally come across them. 

But old habits die hard and Hazel kept his hand over Gat’s mouth, felt Gat’s breath against his palm as he moved his hand in a rhythm that had Gat closing his eyes and squeezing Hazel’s hips. Hazel’s face was pressed against the side of Gat’s neck and he rubbed his hardness against Gat’s thigh, wanting skin-on-skin contact but not having the self-control to stop thrusting his hips long enough to take their clothes off completely. 

Gat shifted, moved his head enough so that he could bite down on Hazel’s hand hard enough that there was the slightest threat of teeth breaking through skin. His hands moved down to Hazel’s ass, squeezed even harder as he yanked Hazel up against him in one sharp jerk. It was enough to push Hazel over the edge, pleasure suddenly peaking as he came in his boxers. Gat followed soon after, covering Hazel’s hand and stomach in his spend. 

It took the a few minutes to catch their breath, the sound of their breathing filling the small living room. 

“We should move to the bedroom,” Gat said, cheek resting on top of Hazel’s head. “Maybe take a shower.” If it weren’t for his arms around Hazel’s waist, Hazel would probably be lying on the floor. 

Hazel decided that he could let himself relax for a couple of hours—that he _deserved_ those hours. “Lead the way.” 

*****

The graveyard was full of red and orange leaves. Along with the flowers the mourners left, the colors made Bishop Filbert’s grave look almost cheerful. 

Hazel had stayed silent for the entire funeral, only nodding slightly whenever someone would come up to him and offer their condolences. The entire time, he’d felt Gat’s eyes on him. 

It was getting dark and cold, but Hazel didn’t feel the urge to go home. His apartment was just as dark and probably colder, and tomorrow was the weekend anyway. 

Gat's hand on his shoulder wasn't as surprising—was more comforting than—it should have been. “You should rest.” Hazel wanted to ask if he was there as part of his funeral home duties or if he was there as a friend. 

“I …” Hazel paused, swallowed. “I left the seminary last year.” It wasn’t what he had planned to say, but he supposed it was more honest than anything else he could have said. He silently willed Gat to read between the lines. 

It took a moment for Gat to ask, “Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“Yes.” 

*****

Bishop Filbert watched as Hazel finished packing his things. “I wish you would reconsider,” he said. “But that’s mostly because I just want you to stay here where I can keep an eye on you.” 

Hazel smiled weakly at the attempt at a joke. More than anything, he wished he could tell father everything, why he was really leaving the seminary and moving out. That Hazel was having a crisis of faith wasn’t exactly untrue, but he’d exaggerated it a bit instead of telling father that he was having a crisis over whether or not he would go to Hell for still having feelings for a man he had broken up with years ago. 

Whenever he’s burdened with his thoughts, Hazel would usually talk to father about what’s troubling him. But this is the one thing he can’t bring himself to open up about, no matter how many times father’s told him that he can talk to him about anything. Every day spent studying to be a pastor was a day spent mentally beating himself up for being a hypocrite, wondering if people would still be as warm and welcoming if they knew about Gat. 

Hazel needed to leave the seminary until he could figure out what he really wanted. He felt guilty for staying and guilty for leaving, but the latter was still the better option. 

“I’ll see you on Sunday?” Bishop Filbert asked, hugging Hazel. 

Hazel took comfort in the contact, relishing it before he moved to his new, empty, lonely apartment. “Of course, father.” 

*****

Hazel glanced at his watch. There were only fifteen minutes left before the start of the movie and Gat still hadn’t arrived or texted. He wondered if he was being stood up and felt a rush of sadness at the thought despite the fact that he’d been thinking about leaving just a few minutes earlier. 

Growing up, he’d been taught that asking God for a sign was disrespectful, a demonstration of your lack of faith. God did not have to prove Himself for you to believe in Him. But in that moment, Hazel felt smaller and lonelier than he’d ever felt in his life. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he closed his eyes anyway and prayed. 

_Lord, please give me a sign._

Hazel opened his eyes to find Gat standing in front of him. 

“Sorry,” Gat said. “Traffic was bad.” 

“It’s fine,” Hazel said, standing up. “Let’s go.” Gat’s hand brushed against his before Hazel linked their fingers together.


End file.
